The Worry Website Read online

  William is daft. He had typed in:

  Why cant you bee in the consat? I am in it and I am useless at sining and dansing and stuff. But I am dooing cungring triks.

  I blinked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think the lad means “conjuring”,’ said Mr Speed. ‘I’ve helped him work out a routine with young Samantha.’

  I blinked again.

  ‘Can William do conjuring tricks?’ Wendy asked doubtfully. She hasn’t got to know all the children in Mr Speed’s class – but you can’t miss William.

  ‘No, of course he can’t. He drops all the cards and fails to pull out the ribbons and he can’t produce the toy white rabbit from his cardboard top hat,’ said Mr Speed, chuckling.

  I decided maybe I didn’t like Mr Speed after all.

  ‘They will laugh at him,’ I said. I can’t put expression into my voice machine, but I tried to look disapproving.

  ‘Don’t frown at me, madam. They’re supposed to laugh. William is deliberately mucking up his act. He’s playing a totally useless conjuror. Well, he doesn’t need to try hard, does he? And Samantha is going to get all gussied up in her ballet frock, being his beautiful blond assistant, and she will sort him out and do the trick each time.’

  I nodded. I looked at another comment on the computer screen.

  I wanted to sing a song with Holly but she’s doing a dance with her little sister so I’ve got to sing on my own and my voice goes all wobbly and Mr Speed shouts, ‘You’re out of tune, lad’ and makes it worse so I don’t want to be in the concert.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Speed, reading over my shoulder. ‘I do sound a bully, don’t I? I’m not really that bad, am I, Natasha?’ ‘Yes!’ I said.

  Mr Speed laughed. Wendy laughed. Lisa looked up from her painting and laughed. I laughed too.

  ‘Is everyone taking part in the concert?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Not quite everyone. Lisa says she doesn’t feel like performing. She’s come to my rescue with the scenery. And hopefully she might help out with the props too.’ Mr Speed gestured at the remains of his fairy carriage.

  I asked Wendy to wheel me over to Lisa so I could have a closer look at her scenery. She parked me beside her and then went to have a little talk with Mr Speed. Probably about me. People are always having little talks about me and my progress – or lack of it. I’m OK at the difficult stuff. Ten out of ten in all lessons. I’m just useless at all the easy-peasy ordinary things everyone else takes for granted. I’m trapped in my baby body, unable to do anything for myself. Nought out of ten for walking, talking, going to the loo, combing my hair, whatever.

  I like the way Lisa has her hair, short and spiky. It looks seriously cool. Maybe it’s time I had my hair cut?

  I started telling her with my machine that I liked her hair. The mechanical voice made her jump and she blotched a bit of paint so that her princess got a red spot on the end of her nose to match her scarlet smile.

  ‘Whoops!’

  ‘Sorry I’ve spoilt your lady.’ I wanted to say I’m sorry my mechanical voice sounds so stupid and I loved the way she’s painted the beautiful fairy-tale princess but it would have taken too long.

  ‘I think the wizard’s put a curse on her. She’s got spots. So have I, actually,’ said Lisa. ‘My mum says it’s too much chocolate.’

  My hand wasn’t behaving itself because I wanted to make friends with Lisa so much. I had to make several stabs at it before I managed to say, ‘I love chocolate.’

  ‘I’ve got a Galaxy here,’ said Lisa, fishing it out of her pocket with painty fingers. ‘Do you want a bite?’ Then she went pink. ‘I mean . . . can you . . . can you eat, like, normally?’

  ‘Try me!’ I said.

  She had the sense to break off a small square. She held it tentatively to my mouth. I tried sooo hard not to drool on her. I sucked the chocolate in and as I munched I made my voice machine say, ‘I can talk with my mouth full.’

  Lisa burst out laughing and gave me another piece of chocolate. She ate a square herself and then started sketching a house in a little wood at the right of her scenery.

  ‘This is going to be the witch’s gingerbread house, right? It’s made out of sweets and chocolate and cakes and cookies. Maybe I could do it a bit like a collage, eh? Stick real little bits of chocolate on the roof?’

  ‘Fruit gums for stained-glass windows and marshmallows for window ledges and Toblerone for a gable,’ I spelt out endlessly. It took for ever but Lisa nodded at each word and calmly went on painting.

  ‘That’s so great, Natasha. If only you could paint too. What if we strapped a brush to your hand?’

  ‘Too shaky.’

  ‘How about your mouth?’ Lisa gently put the end of her paintbrush in my mouth and then tried to push me nearer the desk where a piece of paper was set out. I saw Wendy step forward to help with the wheelchair but Mr Speed stopped her.

  I tried hard, clenching my teeth. I know lots of people with severe disabilities use their mouths. Some really little kids at my special school can operate anything with a wriggle of their lips. But I find it incredibly difficult. It took me years to learn to drink with a straw, for goodness’ sake. I’m hardly going to paint Mona Lisas with my mouth.

  I had several goes but I kept dropping the stupid brush the minute it touched the paper. I thought Lisa would quickly get fed up with this lark but she was incredibly patient. I was the one who spat the brush out deliberately in disgust.

  ‘Try again, Natasha,’ said Mr Speed.

  I knew he’d been watching us.

  ‘You try,’ I said with my machine. You can get away with being a bit cheeky when you’ve got disabilities.

  ‘OK, I’ll have a go,’ said Mr Speed.

  He sat in front of the piece of paper, stuck a paintbrush in his mouth, dabbled it – with difficulty – in a pot of pink paint and then tried to paint with it. He was too jerky and the paint much too runny. It spattered everywhere. Wendy was standing too near. A spray landed on her nose, like pink freckles. Lisa and I fell about laughing. I almost did it literally, flopping sideways in my chair. Wendy was a good sport, laughing too as she hauled me upright.

  “Orry, ‘orry,’ Mr Speed mumbled, his mouth still full of paintbrush. He had another go, frowning ferociously with concentration. He kept blotching, but by his fifth piece of paper he’d managed a lopsided daisy.

  He removed the paintbrush and flourished his painting. Lisa and Wendy clapped and I pressed ‘well done’ on my talk machine. Mr Speed presented the painting to Wendy apologizing more coherently for spraying her with paint. Wendy went as pink as her freckles.

  I caught Lisa’s eye. She winked. We both giggled. Was there something going on between Wendy and Mr Speed?

  Wendy was all too happy to stay behind with me after school. We sometimes popped round other days too.

  My mum and dad were thrilled that I’d made a new friend.

  ‘Ask Lisa if she wants to come to tea,’ said Mum.

  So I did, though I was a bit worried about it. Sometimes kids are happy to be your friend at school but they don’t want to be real tell-you-everything-come-to-my-sleepover friends with someone like me. But Lisa looked really pleased. So Wendy drove us both home in the special adapted car and Lisa met my mum and my dad and my big sister Lois. I felt a bit bothered because they all baby me a bit, especially my dad. He always fusses round me, chucking me under the chin, tickling me, treating me like a fairy princess.

  ‘My dad’s a bit daft,’ I said with my voice machine, when Lisa and I were in my room.

  ‘Your dad’s lovely,’ said Lisa. She looked strangely sad. But she smiled again as she peered all round my room. ‘Your room’s so fantastic, Natasha!’

  My room would be the front room or dining room in most people’s houses, but it’s my bedroom because it’s downstairs so it saves Mum or Dad hauling me up and down every day. I didn’t want it all frilly and little girly. I’ve got deep navy carpet and curtains and a navy and white checke